Skeletons in the Parlor
by Ayrith
Summary: Hermione encounters Draco Malfoy at Fortesques one fine summer day. Eight years can change things. And people. And possibilities.


She's wearing a yellow sundress and sitting at a table outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. It's been eight years and yet wizarding ice cream is still her favorite. Chocolate Raspberry dribbles down her chin. She curls her tongue around her spoon and stares out into the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, watching. The wizarding world has changed and yet here she sits indulging in ice cream, and it's like she is sixteen again. She contemplates going into Flourish & Blotts just to finger the crisp bound parchment, to pour over the tiny script that she remembers vividly believing held the secrets to the universe.

She caresses Diagon Alley with her eyes— with the warmth of an old friend—licks her spoon, and savors the memories.

"Granger?"

Hermione looks up, surprised. The voice is familiar, and she almost doesn't acknowledge him, but she came here today to settle with her ghosts and that's bound to mean dealing with her skeletons. She takes him in as best she can—the sun is behind him, enveloping him in butter yellow and casting shadows in his face—but he looks well. He's wearing trousers and a crisp cotton shirt with the wizard bell sleeves that are all the rage in London. She'd kill for a pair of his oxfords. What little she can't see she fills in with memory.

"Hello, Malfoy," she replies. She is almost surprised at how natural it is to say. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Indeed," he replies seriously. "Though, it is far more odd for you to be here than I…" He trails off, squinting across the street. Her gaze follows and catches a flash of pale blonde entering a shop. She's fairly certain that was Narcissa Malfoy, and by the slightly exasperated expression that crosses Malfoy's face, she is certain he has unexpected free time on his hands.

"Be here for awhile?" she asks good naturally, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. At the the way it's started to flip up, it appears he has been doing that all morning.

She laughs a little, drawing his attention back to her. His disgruntlement is all too familiar—Ron and Harry used to look the same every time she spotted a bookstore. In a flash of inspiration, she takes pity on him and points at the chair with her spoon. "It's a great day for ice cream. Care to sit?" she offers.

She's surprised him with that one, she can tell. Truthfully, she has surprised herself, but she decides to go with the flow anyway. They work in similar departments and have had several lunches together to discuss work-related details, so it isn't as if it is that strange of a request, even if it had been several years since the last. Still, Fortescue's is so busy today that it's not like there is any other place to sit.

Draco Malfoy stares at her for a long, silent moment, looks back at the shop, and then seats himself in the empty chair across from her. Now that he is no longer just passing by, his gaze is distant and not particularly friendly, but that's fine because frankly the feeling is mutual. They aren't friends, so there is no point in mulling over it. Instead, Hermione smiles lightly and he bobs his head in polite response.

Hermione's ice cream is large and she has an extra spoon. She sets it down before him but doesn't care if he takes it or not. He doesn't.

They exchange halting "How are you"s that neither really cares to hear, then Malfoy gets straight to the point.

"The last I heard, you've been out of England for a few years. Back to stay, Granger?" Malfoy asks. Hermione, in no hurry to answer, takes in the rigid line of his spine and the neat cross of his white ankles; the way he looks relaxed sitting sideways in his chair when his posture is anything but. Even as a boy, he had an infuriating sense of poise that made her feel grubby and unkempt.

She unconsciously straightens a bit.

"Not for a few more months," Hermione answers finally. "I wanted to see Diagon Alley again. I'm to portkey to Germany tomorrow morning."

He doesn't ask why, and she doesn't offer it. It is ministry-related, and that's really all there is to know. They are still rivals, even if they both came out victorious after the war, and the ministry is simply another playing field to pit themselves upon.

Instead, she asks, "And you? How's consulting? Still showing the accounting department how to do its jobs?"

He smirks slightly at her description, which is probably more accurate than most people would understand. "Only when necessary," he says vaguely, and she smirks because he's about admitted he works there full time.

They sit in silence, punctuated only by the slight suck of Hermione eating her ice cream. Malfoy seems to be contemplative, absorbing her with his eyes. The grayness of his eyes are still startling even now, eight years later, when she has had time and memory to erode at their shocking brilliance. She feels naked under that piercing stare, but he will not intimidate her.

She wonders when that happened, him having the power to intimidate her at all. Infuriate her, yes. But she'd refused to give him anymore power over her when they were younger. It's another testament to how things have changed, how the war made everything new and strange.

But some things remain the same.

"I suppose the germans will have a joy of you," Draco says finally. "Shall I owl ahead, warn them of what you'll do to their coffers?"

He is talking about her rather successful work in foreign investments. All that campaigning in her youth gave her quite the practice. Only a Malfoy can turn a compliment into an insult so effectively.

"Of course you won't," she replies wryly. "Not if you want the Ministry to afford your atrocious consultation fees."

His smile this time is all teeth. She stares at it, struck by the crazy fact that Draco Malfoy is bantering with her and quite possibly enjoying himself. If things had turned out a little differently a few years ago, she never would have seen it. She'd never of had the chance. Hermione is suddenly overcome with a strange sense of peace, as if any subconscious doubt over the war and its meaning was lifted at that single, unremarkable sight.

Malfoy seems to feel it too. He clears his throat.

"This is probably not the right time, but…there are quite a few things I should probably apologize for," he says. There is a pause, and his eyes flick involuntarily to her arm, which still bears a strange scar, like chicken scratch. He doesn't elaborate or actually apologize though, which is very typical of a Malfoy.

"I'm sure we all do," she responds rather vaguely, because she'd rather not drudge up the past when it's so beautiful outside. And it has taken way too damn long for her to stop wearing long sleeve shirts and feel the sun on her skin.

Draco watches her closely in silence. "I admit…" he says haltingly, fingering the trim of his fashionable shirt. "This new world is rather strange to me."

It doesn't take seven perfect O's in Newts to understand his meaning, but it still makes Hermione hesitate. She is more than a little surprised at his confession, mostly because it is very vulnerable, personal thing to say and they are not at all close. But perhaps he too realizes they are more than simple enemies; that she has seen the suffering he endured to save his family, that he has watched her bleed on his drawing room floor.

Perhaps it is that which prompts her to push her ice cream towards him. "Have some."

He raises an eyebrow. He is trying to figure out if she is trivializing his point. She props her chin in her hand.

"There are days," she says quite seriously, "where I don't recognize anything at all. But my travels over the last few years have made me appreciate the small things. There are somethings that haven't changed…" She gestures at the ice cream. "There are some that have." She looks back up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Since we don't get a choice in the matter…" she shrugs, takes another bite.

She forgets he's there for a moment, savoring the flavor of the ice cream with delight. When she opens her eyes, both his eyebrows are raised and she's not sure if the look he is giving her is interest or amusement.

She flushes a little. "It's really good."

His lips curve up at the corners. "So it would seem," he replies and the humor in it transforms his face entirely. She realizes that he is, in fact, quite handsome. He leans slightly forward. "That good?"

Her smile turns secretive, and she leans in as she teases, "It'll change your world."

If she had thought about it for a second, she would have never teased him. It is far too close to flirting and he is Draco Malfoy, after all. But she is pleasantly surprised when with only minimal amusement he seems to take her comment for face value and studies the treat before him.

"Chocolate Raspberry?" he asks at last.

She nods. "You don't like?"

A pause. "My favorite," he admits.

She smiles. "I promise you, Fortiscues version is the best in Europe." She picks up the extra spoon and holds it out to him.

"Well, you are the expert." He takes the spoon from her gently; she notices his hands are large with long fingers and they brush against her skin, making it tingle. Before she can quite process that, he takes a humongous scoop of her ice cream—nearly a quarter!—and bites.

She outright laughs at the expression on his face. It is the most peculiar mix of surprise, pleasure, and greed she has ever seen. He seems to notice and a slight flush creeps up his neck, but he manages to look composed, even as he swallows and licks his lips.

"See, I was right," she surmises and pulls her ice cream back, because he can't have _all_ of it.

"Always trust the know-it-all," he concedes as he sits the spoon down. Malfoys are always pushing boundaries and this is no exception. But the coolness in his eyes from before has been replaced with something more relaxed, and she finds herself smiling back.

Of course, after that, it gets a little awkward. They are treading on uncharted ground and for once, she finds herself at a loss of words. But Malfoy, ever the diplomat, turns the conversation to previous projects they worked on and people they know. By the time he makes to leave, she realizes that they've been sitting quite congenially for ten minutes and that she wouldn't mind a few more.

"It was a pleasure, Malfoy," she says when he stands, adjusting his collar. She means it. He nods, thanks her for sharing her bit of ice cream, and walks away. He does not say goodbye nor does he look back, but Hermione isn't sure she would have wanted him to. There is too much she realizes she doesn't know about him anymore and _something_ should stay familiar.

Hermione sits and enjoys her ice cream. She spends less than five minutes contemplating her encounter with Malfoy before a shadow once again towers over her. She cranes her neck up, but this time to see a far more recognizable face with a large, appreciative grin.

"Hi Ron," she says, delighted. She is reminded, belatedly, that her point being here at Fortescue's was to meet him there.

Ron folds himself in the seat Malfoy had recently occupied.

"How's it going Hermione?" he asks cheerfully. His face is heavily tanned, and thick patches of freckles shine on his nose and cheeks. She finds that she can look at his face now, after all these years, without any pang of regret. It is a relief. Hermione smiles at him affectionately.

"Not too bad," she replies. "Yourself?"

"Absolutely dreadful," he says, though he is still grinning. She is struck again with how much she has missed him. "It's terribly hot and I think I'm burning as we speak—" As for himself, Ron is plainly staring at her ice cream. "—Can I have some? He gestures vaguely at the ice cream and the extra spoon. He doesn't wait for her reply in the end, and helps himself to both the spoon and her dessert, attacking her ice cream with the attention of a starved animal.

Hermione seriously contemplates telling Ron that he just indirectly kissed Malfoy, but after a giggle, decides against it. While he'd have an undoubtedly hilarious reaction, he'd also start asking ridiculous questions. Like why she is still eating a Malfoy-contaminated ice cream, for example.

Hermione smiles to herself and snags a bite from between Ron's spoon. The day is fine, she is wearing a sundress, and Ron is back in her life. She doesn't want to ruin it by dredging up the past.

Besides, what is a little sharing between old enemies?


End file.
